


Are We There Yet?

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: F/M, TWT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: They’d been stuck on the space station for six days.





	Are We There Yet?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirty_diana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/gifts).



> So this is for the amazing dirty_diana, on the occasion of holiday gift-writing, for her prompt of, literally, the first sentence of this fic. I hope you enjoy it, lady! Beta'd by the unstoppable [silvermyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermyth). (Who has known me far too long, it's sort of scary now. ;D)

They’d been stuck on the space station for six days.

“I’m bored,” Dutch said, her voice muffled through her arms from where she lay on her stomach, head pillowed on her forearms.

“Johnny will be here,” D’avin repeated, for at least the sixteenth time, while he let his head knock backward into the bulkhead.

“You said that yesterday,” Dutch groaned. “And day before yesterday.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” D’avin said, sighing. If Dutch during a lull in a mission was terrifying, Dutch stuck on an exceedingly small space station for six days was _unliveable_. D’avin had thus far refrained from killing her, but it had been a close thing.

Dutch huffed. “When?” she whined, her voice cracking up an octave. “When will Johnny be here?”

D’avin shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. “As soon as he can be,” he said, instead of the _not soon enough_ he was thinking.

Dutch threw a hand above her head, her face still mashed into her other arm, and proclaimed, “Entertain me!”

“What?” D’avin asked. “No.”

“Do as I demand, Jaqobis,” Dutch said, waving her hand imperiously. 

D’avin laughed. “Uh, yeah, no,” he said. “The last time I tried, you decided we should spar, and there aren’t any cold packs left on the station. So, again, no.”

Dutch’s arm slapped down onto the deck and she groaned again. “Aren’t soldiers supposed to listen to orders?” she asked, the whine still in her voice. 

“Only ones on active duty,” D’avin replied, yawning. “The rest of us only listen to orders that make sense.”

Dutch propped her chin on her forearm and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “My orders make sense. Entertain me, and I won’t go fucking nuts and blow this place up.”

“That’s more a threat than an order,” D’avin said, giving Dutch a sarcastically considering look.

“Fine,” Dutch said, rolling onto her back and then sitting in one smooth motion. “I’m threatening you. Entertain me, or _else_.” She smiled broadly, all teeth.

D’avin raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “You’re not actually going to blow up the space station. Pretty much all the leverage you have here is bodily harm, and I will absolutely rat you out to Johnny.”

Dutch kept smiling, and D’avin’s brain provided him with an image of a large, feral cat right before it pounced. Wonderful. 

“Did you have anything in mind?” he asked, spreading his arms.

“I always do the thinking,” Dutch said, crossing her arms as though providing an inverted mirror of body language. “Your turn.”

“I think since you stranded us here, you really should get to keep the responsibility,” D’avin said, giving Dutch a smile of his own.

She barked a laugh. “Oh, _I_ stranded us here, did I? Who told Johnny it’d be ‘perfectly fine’ if he ran back to the RAC?”

“And it would have been,” D’avin said, repeating an argument he’d been making for days, “if you hadn’t decided we should stow away and then get off and explore.”

“But I wouldn’t have done that if Johnny had been there,” Dutch said, scowling. 

“You mean Johnny would have told you what a terrible idea it was, and then put Lucy on stand by,” D’avin countered. “ _I_ told you it was a terrible idea, Dutch.”

Dutch shrugged. “Wrong Jaqobis.”

D’avin dropped his head back against the bulkhead. “You’re insane.” He closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten.

He opened them again when Dutch dropped down into his lap. “I’ve figured out how you can entertain me,” she said, leering.

“Dutch--” D’avin started, but was cut off when the PA system buzzed into activity.

“Are you two idiots ready to get out of there? I caught our coller, by the way,” Johnny’s voice said, staticky over the rarely used speakers. “How did you get out here, anyway? No, wait, hang on-- Okay, now I can hear you.”

Dutch slid off D’avin’s lap and leaned down to pick up her belt and jacket. “It’s about time, Jaqobis,” she said, voice raised for the speakers.

“About time?” Johnny asked. “You’re lucky I’m here _at all_. It’s not like our smuggler left a flight plan or anything. No, Lucy and I had to spend hours figuring out his flight path.”

“If you caught him,” D’avin said, standing and cracking his back, “why didn’t you just ask him?”

There was a pause. “He wouldn’t cooperate?” Johnny said, his voice twitching into a question. “Whatever. Get to the level two docking bay.”

“We’re going to have _words_ , Johnny Jaqobis!” Dutch’s voice echoed around the room, and into the exit hatch she was climbing down.

“Oh, good,” D’avin said. “She can be mad at you, now.”


End file.
